Seasons
by Imaginary Dreams
Summary: She had to run. He was her home. Home with her Dark One was Heaven compared to the Hell of an uncaring father and demons disguised as men of the cloth. Dark Rumbelle, Four parter.
1. Fall

_"I can't run anymore,  
I fall before you,  
Here I am,  
I have nothing left,  
Though I've tried to forget,  
You're all that I am,  
Take me home,  
I'm through fighting it,  
Broken,  
Lifeless,  
I give up,  
You're my only strength,  
Without you,  
I can't go on,  
Anymore,  
Ever again."_

Evanescence - October

* * *

_Am I the broken butterfly you dreamed of?_

All she could do now was run. It was the only escape. Escape the pain. Escape the torture. Escape the nightmares.

Escape.

There was no bravery in being the playtoy of monsters- true demons disguised in flesh and blood, walking amongst others as men of the cloth- men who worshipped their God. **Their** God had abandoned her. Forsaken her and left her to the mercy of demons. There was no courage in what she had endured. Only pain. Only sadness. Only an ache so deep and unbearable, there were no words to describe it.

She fell, sobbing into the forest grass, her blood-stained hands curling around the dead leaves.

_In this dark place, butterflies die._

It had become too much for her to bear. Her father, whom she had loved so much, the father for whom she had 'sacrificed' herself for the safety and protection of the kingdom, refused her. He'd laughed in her face, spitting at her that she was nothing more than the whore of a demon. The whole court had laughed at her and cheered as he ordered her to the dungeons.

The only 'mercy' she was allowed was to remain unspoiled as a maiden- her father had decreed to mate with her- 'mate', as if his own flesh and blood were less than human- would to allow the darkness to spread.

She had stopped fighting. She had stopped caring and only began to pray for death. She had even begged the clerics. She had begged her father to allow her to die. They all laughed at the request. She was something less than human now- what right did she have to make a request of them?

And the people thought the Dark One was cruel- the one being on this earth who had shown her kindness, until the end.

Days quickly turned into nights- nights of floggings. Threats whispered in her ear as if they were speaking to a lover.

_But I suppose that's how it's meant to be. To have a moment of beauty and freedom, only to have their wings torn off by the hands of monsters._

Gaston had entered the prison earlier that night, dismissing the clerics. His breath smelled of mead, his eyes glazed over.

"Tell me, did you offer that demon what rightly should be mine?" he slurred. Belle whimpered, fearful of what he was planning. Her whole body began to shake.

"Come now, dear Belle. Kiss me as you kissed that monster," he said, lunging to her in a drunken stupor.

Her screams had gone unheard as he tried to untie her soiled gown. In his state, he could barely see the ties and buttons, so he reached for his dagger.

It was her only chance. Before he brought the dagger to her gown, she grabbed it and drove it into the empty cave in his chest where a heart should be. He made no noise, no sound or screams. He simply fell to the floor, dead.

The horror of what she had done had not sunk in until she had escaped, until she could feel the warmth of the blood on her hands and gown.

_That one brief moment of beauty until the monsters both in flesh and mind tear us down; that one brief moment of false hope._

"WHY?!" she screamed to the empty skies, shaking and shuddering in dear and horror. There was no answer- no answer that could ever be considered 'fair' or 'just'. No, those were mortal concepts. They didn't truly exist. The only proof of their existence was what the leaders and kings turned and twisted for their own benefit.

She just wanted to go home. To the one place she felt at peace. To the one place where she wasn't scorned or treated as an object.

No. It couldn't happen anymore. She was a monster.

_A lovely curse and broken blessing- butterflies are nothing more than broken wishes of the damned._

Grief overtook her as she fell asleep.

* * *

Was she dead, as was her wish? No...it was another torture. Heaven was now far out of her reach. But Hell...Hell couldn't be this lovely.

She felt hands caress her face and began to cry. This was Hell. The Hell she deserved. The Hell she was damned to.

"Shh.." a familiar voice spoke, only causing her to cry more. This was more than torture. Is this what damnation truly was- to be taunted with the voice of the one she loved more than anyything?

"Belle, please look at me," the voice said, placing a hauntingly familiar hand on her cheek, a slightly scaly thumb gently wiping away her tears.

Resigned to have the torture complete, she complied.

It was her Dark One.

"It's a trick," she said sadly, knowing he wouldn't come for her. She was a broken doll of no use to anyone. Who would want her.

"No."

The conviction of the Dark One almost drove her to laugh. She felt like she was on the edge of insanity.

"All right, Dark One," Belle spoke, sitting herself up. She began to untie her gown, only to feel his hands on hers, pulling them to her sides as she struggled.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice deadly.

"I might as well give in. I'm too tired of fighting. No matter what, even though I'm claimed as the whore of the Dark One, my body is still desired. Please, allow me to show you what the body of a whore looks like," she cried.

The Dark One looked at it, horrified at what had been done to her. This was not the Belle he'd known. This was a broken beauty.

But broken or not, he still loved her.

"This is not a trick," he said, enunciating the words clearly as he looked into her eyes.

Something broke inside her, perhaps the desperate -need- to believe that she was loved and cared for, the desperate need to believe he'd cared enough to save her.

She fell forward into his arms, crying as she buried her head in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, fighting his own building rage at the thought of what she had endured.

"My beautiful Belle. What have they done to you?" he whispered into her hair.

"Please. Please don't send me away again. Please don't leave me again. Please," she begged, terrified at the thought of never seeing her Dark One again.

"No love. Never again. You're home," he whispered, holding her tighter against him.

_But maybe that's why butterflies simply are. Altruistic- they live for others; to give others the hope that there is beauty in the darkest of places._

* * *

**A/N: Part 1 of 4. This is going to be a lot darker than I'd thought, but in light of some personal things, it's best to write it out than let it lie inside.**


	2. Fall and Winter

_"So dull and dark are the November days._  
_The lazy mist high up the evening curled,_  
_And now the morn quite hides in smoke and haze;_  
_The place we occupy seems all the world."  
_**  
**- John Clare, _November_

* * *

For the first two days of October; the first two days of being home, she slept- the Dark One by her side. Sleep was no escape. The cruel reality of her past would come back to life in her nightmares. She didn't know how to dream anymore. There was no peace, no reprieve from her torment.

_Did you know sorrow has a taste? Broken and bitter, heavy on your tongue. Poisonous._

It was as if her mind, even in what was meant to be a state of rest and comfort, was still locked in the prison. Locked in the tower. She could still feel the cold bite of the daggers against her skin, the whips tied with glass- to purge her of the evil, of her sin.

She had not sinned. The only sin or crime she committed in her short life was murder- she would never forget the sound of the blade piercing Gaston's heart, nor the dark blood that stained her fingers. To love someone- the sin she was accused of- was not a crime, no matter the perception of the ignorant, self-righteous rulers.

_Bless me, Father._

No. There were no blessings. Only curses from her own father- her own flesh and blood. Cursing her as damned, condemning her to nothing but a half-life, a life branded as unclean. As filthy. As nothing.

The Dark One watched her sleep, his facy stony as he saw Belle's face twist with the onslaught of her nightmares. Though his face remained impassive, as still as Niobe at the pool, his hands clutched the wooden chair's armrests, feeling them splinter against his palms. He had to keep his fury, his hatred in check. His Belle had suffered enough and he would not allow her to see him in such a state. Granted, she had seen him angry. She had seen how his anger affected him and the others around him. He was not by any means a -cruel- individual, although others viewed him that way. He was merely a deal-maker. It was no fault of his own that others had no idea what they were asking for a mere desire instead of a want; a necessity. Had a stranger asked him for food or shelter, he would have gladly granted it to them, for a small price. But the other fools...that was a different story.

Yes, she had seen him angry. But she had never seen him with the look of murder, the look of unadulturated hate in his eyes.

_Did you know sorrow and pain have a sound? The sound of your loved one crying. The sound of their tears hitting the floor. The sound of their screams as they try to fight through uncharted nightmares._

By the third day, he woke her as gently as he could, attempting to save her from the demons of her past. There was an unbearable ache, an unbearable hurt when she flinched from his touch. What had been done to her? What had been done to her to startle at a simple touch that wanted nothing more than to reassure, not lay hands of violence against her?

He had brought her hot soup. It had been so long since she'd eaten something sustainable. Her stomach burned as she swallowed the soup, no longer used to being nourished. For all her hunger, she couldn't eat much. Her body and mind were still weak, still struggling with the painful past and the new reality of her situation.

"Thank you," Belle said softly, slightly disappointed with herself for no apparent reason.

"You're bleeding," The Dark One said, no chirp to his voice, no teasing or playful tone.

Belle reached over her shoulder to her back, knowing one of the many lashes had indeed re-opened.

"I'm sorry," she cried gently, moving to cover her face in her hands. She thought nothing of herself- only how pathetic she was.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Belle. The fault is not your own. But your wounds need to be tended to," The Dark One said. He knew she would scorn any contact, her body and mind untrusting of anyone and anything. This was confirmed by the sound of her cries turning into sobs.

"Please, Belle," he begged, the sound of her cries breaking his heart. "Please trust me."

_For I have sinned._

She nodded, trying to will herself to stop crying. He was right. Her wounds hadn't been tended to at all during her captivity. It seemed to be another sick torture devised to break her down. It succeeded.

Belle took a deep breath and leaned forward as the Dark One untied the back of her gown, slowly and gently. He bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood when he saw her back. Numerous gashes, islands of cuts, myriads of open wounds scarred her back. He fisted his hands tightly, his nails cutting into the palms of his hands.

He conjured a bowl of warm water and clean cloths, knowing some of the wounds had been caused by magic. He was fearful to use any magic, especially against an unknown magic.

Belle gasped as the warm cloth touched her back, the pain radiating throughout her body. More tears flowed as the Dark One gently cleaned the dried blood and fresh blood from her back. They were tears of pain mixed with tears of...of what? Slight joy and happiness knowing that someone was caring for her?

_Did you know sorrow has a scent? Bitter and sour, the scent of broken dreams and unfulfilled wishes. Of broken hope._

After what seemed to be hours, her back was cleaned of the blood. He conjured a salve next, thick and light green, meant to prevent infection and speed healing. At least physical wounds had a chance to heal; to scar over. The wounds of the soul and mind were a different story. No matter what, the scar tissue would never stay. It would always open up and allow the memory of the wounds to overtake.

"Why are you doing this?" Belle asked, her voice heavy.

"I'm sorry?"

"Why are you doing this? Taking care of me?"

His hands stilled over her back, his mind trying to think of an answer. Any answer at all.

_Bless me Father. For I have sinned. I have given my love freely to one who is damned._

He couldn't tell her the real reason. Why he was caring for her now. And it hurt him, to be unable to let her know. But he was a coward at heart, despite all his power. She'd view his answer as nothing more than torture, perhaps a way to have her in his bed. He couldn't let her think that. Not after the Hell she'd endured. Because of him.

"I broke our deal. There are always consequences to breaking a deal," he said, his hands gently rubbing the salve on her back. She shivered and he stopped.

"I'm fine. It just hit a tender spot," she said.

His hands felt cool against her skin, soothing the angry and jagged wounds. His tenderness surprised her. For months, she'd forgotten what i felt like to be touched so sweetly. Sweet tcouhes quickly turned to angry slaps in her mind. Struggling, she pushed the memory away.

"Crying is not a weakness, Belle," the Dark One said softly, sensing her anguish. Belle nodded tightly as she felt the tears fall.

_Do you know the feel of sorrow? It's that unbearable weight upon your shoulders, spikes and needles at the soles of your feet preventing you from moving forward._

She cried softly as he tenderly bandaged her wounds, somehow sensing that this would be the only moment of tenderness and peace she'd experience from this point on. He made it clear he didn't want her. Perhaps he was doing this out of pity. The memories of what he said to her before banishing her were still too fresh, as fresh as the wounds he was tending to on her back.

"How did I get here?" Belle asked, suddenly. The last thing she remembered was running. Avonlea was a distance from the Dark Castle and it was unlikely in her state she could even manage to get here. Surely her father must have sent the guards after her?

Rumplestiltskin paused, unsure of what to say. He wanted to tell her the truth- tell he that he'd...that he'd missed her. He missed the way she'd sing as she tended the castle. The way she would smile playfully at him while he was spinning. He missed her. But for the months of her imprisonment at the hands of her father, he knew she was suffering. He was a coward, through and through. It wasn't until the night Gaston threatened to destroy her in more ways than one had he acted.

"Rumplestiltskin?" Belle asked again.

_The love of the damned is an unforgivable act, child. By loving one, you yourself become damned._

"I was on my way for a deal...to collect on my end. As I left the castle gates, I saw you. You were hidden in the leaves and I could see you were hurt," he lied, the sour taste of the deception filling his mouth, stinging his tongue.

Silence filled the room, Rumplestiltskin still tending to the numerous wounds on his broken beauty's back. After her wounds were bandaged, he asked her to lie on her stomach. It was the only way for her back to heal. She complied, a distant look in her eyes.

The Dark One rose and made his way to the door, fighting the urge to hold her hand. Fighting the urge to comfort her; to show her how sorry he was.

"Rumplestiltskin?"

He turned around and saw Belle's eyes shining with tears, watching as one freed itself to fall.

"You were right."

"About what?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"There are no heroes. Ever," she said, letting the tears fall freely, no longer able to hold back the pain.

_Did you know sorrow has a sight? It's the sight of the one you love crying, mourning for a future that never will be and crying out for love._

He left the room quickly, rage and sadness building inside of him.

* * *

He couldn't look at her without a murderous desire filling his head. She was a hero- no ordinary person would be able to endure such torture and live, all for the sake of one they loved. She had not deserved her pain. Any pain. Not by him or his cruelty; his desire for power and control. Not by her own father, whose hands should have been holding his daughter instead of brandishing a whip over her head. Not by those damned clerics, who only believed in a justice of their own, twisting it and perverting it to suit their own needs or beliefs.

He hated seeing her so untrusting. This was so far from the Belle he'd know, but pain or not, she was still his Belle. Even though she hid in the shadows, as if she wanted to be one with them. Shadows had a way if disappearing, not humans.

_There are no heroes here. There are no villians. Only shells of empty souls and broken promises._

When she was well enough, she began to fall back into her routine as his housekeeper, despite his objections.

"You're not a slave here, Belle."

"I never considered myself one here," she replied, her voice steady even as her hands shook.

No amount of 'arguing' deterred her. In the end, he gave in. He could understand the need for stability and for something familiar. In his foolish lapse of judgement, his own comfort with the routine, he left her home alone. After all, there were deals to be done.

_There are no angels. There are no demons. Only lost wisps of unanswered questions._

The days into November grew more and more difficult for Belle. Her body was safe, but her mind was constantly under battle with her past tortures. Her hands still felt heavy and warm with the blood of Gaston. Though her physical wounds had healed and left scars, the wounds of her psyche were another matter.

She found herself becoming desensitized. Was she really here? Did she exist? What was real? Was she real?

Her beloved Dark One had left an hour ago, leaving her alone in the castle. Though she was safe from the outside, it was the dangers lurking on the inside that ought her out.

She wouldn't recall how she had got the idea, but at the time, it seemed to make sense.

She'd cleaned the dishes and saw the metallic glimmer of a knife. It entranced her for some reason. Too long she had been numb and she was beginning to wonder if she could still feel. If she could still sense -anything-, whether it be pain or pleasure, fear or safety, love or hate.

_We assign, in our minds- according to the beliefs of others- who the angels and demons are. Who the heroes and villians are._

She gently grabbed the handle and pressed the blade to her arm, her skin slightly feeling the cold steel, the sharp edge.

She gave no thought as she pressed down and drew the blade across her skin.

There was pain, a bright, radiating burst of pain that momentarily blinded her, her heartbeat echoing loudly in her head. But this pain was different. Wasn't all pain supposed to feel the same?

She looked down and saw a steady stream of warm blood flowing from her forearm to her hand and fingertips. It registered to her why this pain was different- different than the lashes of a whip against her back. Different than the brutalities she had endured by the hands of others.

This was **her** pain. Pain of her own doing, pain she could control.

She closed her eyes as she felt the blood drip down her arm slowly.

"Gods above, Belle! What have you done?!" Rumplestiltskin screamed.

Startled, Belle dropped the knife to the stone floor and turned her face to Rumplestiltskin, his eyes dark and angry.

_We assign, in our minds- according to the actions of others- what is evil. What is good._

He said nothing as he drew a finger across the gash, mending the sinew and flesh together. She winced.

"Wasn't the point of your action to cause pain?" he asked sardonically. Belle felt a drop of water on her arm and looked up to see her Dark One shedding tears for her.

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered.

"Because you need to know that you are cared for. That you mean something to someone."

Belle scoffed and hid her laughter.

"No, Dark One. You've made it perfectly clear to me that your power will always mean more to you than I ever would."

Rumplestiltskin's hand tightened slightly on her wrist as he looked into her eyes.

"Cynicism has never suited you, Belle," he said, a warning in the tone of his voice.

"What have I left, Dark One? Tell me, please. I've been used as the playtoy of monsters, rejected by the one I love. What have I left, Rumplestiltskin?" she sobbed heavily, falling into his arms. Rumplestiltskin held her close, holding back his own tears.

"You have me, Belle."

_We assign, in our minds- according to what others believe, what is real and what is imaginary. This is why we believe who is 'worthy' of love. Who 'deserves' their sadness._

* * *

When the first snow fell, Belle tried to bring herself more at ease with the fact she was safe. Even though he would never love her the way she loved him, it still meant something.

After the incident with the knife, he enchanted the blades, along with other cutlery, in order to keep her safe from her self. He no longer left home to do deals. If a deal was desired, they would have to come to the Castle. No questions. He had done enough 'favors' for others. Belle was the only exception.

It hurt him more than she knew. He wanted to tell her of his feelings. He wanted to hold her in his arms at night, to chase away the nightmares. The sound of her cries and screams pierced his dark heart and twisted his soul.

He wanted to tell her the truth. About Bae. About his lies. About his love. But lies are strange- they're more comforting than the truth. It's comforting, a security blanket of lies and deception, whereas the truth leads only to unknown sadness.

The nights grew longer for the both of them- both locked in prisons of their own making- his refusal to let his guard down and her inability to hate him, despite all he'd put her through. She knew, however, he was not to blame. He had not controlled the actions of her father, nor those of the clerics or Gaston. But how could she trust him again?

The nightmares hadn't stopped. She felt herself being transported back into the dungeon of her father's castle. Her father's face kept changing into that of her Dark One, the whip becoming his precious knife.

She hadn't been aware of the fact that she'd been awake, nor of the comforting arms holding her, stroking her hair. All she could do was cry and hold her Dark One.

"I'm so sorry, Belle," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. Belle caught the tone in his voice and for a moment, she thought that perhaps this was his way of apologizing- letting her back into the castle. Protecting her. Holding her as she cried.

"Please stay with me," Belle whispered, fearful of rejection. Instead, she felt him gently pull her down and wrap his arms around her, stroking her hair as he placed her head on his chest.

Her tears had stopped and she was now comforted, feeling a sense of peace.

"Difficult to love or not, I don't think I can imagine not loving you," she said softly, sleep taking over her.

The Dark One's heart stopped briefly. He heard the soft, even breathing of his Belle sleeping, finally at peace.

"I can't imagine not loving you, my Belle," he whispered before settling down with his beauty, holding her as gently as he could.

* * *

**Author's Note: Damn plot bunnies. I thought I fed them, but no. Hah. This is going to be the last chapter I post for a while with this story because I need to get started with the next part of Beautiful Perdition and Haunting Me Tonight. But the next two chapters are going to have my special recipe lemon smut for those who can enjoy it, but it's going to have the dark feel to it, too. **


	3. Winter and Spring

_"This is my December,_  
_This is my time of the year..._  
_This is my December,_  
_This is all so clear..._  
_This is my December,_  
_This is my snow covered home..._  
_This is my December,_  
_This is me alone..."_

Linkin Park - "My December"

* * *

_**In winter, for that brief moment- that oh too brief season, you see everything exactly as it is.**_

For some odd reason, Belle felt more alive, more real in the winter than she had ever felt. The cold air caused her to see her breath, reminding her if she was breathing, she was alive. She was real.

This December was beautiful- snow covered the land surrounding the Dark Castle, the evergreens in the distance heavy with the weight of unfallen snow on their limbs. The rest of the trees were bare, their trunks reminding her of sycamore trees.

It was odd how all others avoided the area as if it were the plague- you approach it even once and you are infected- branded with an unseen mark on your forehead, alerting others of your corruption. But while people avoided the area, she noticed a surprising number of animals converging around the trees- deer prancing about, rabbits hopping through fallen limbs.

For this reason, the garden had become her haven. It shielded her from the harsh reality that lay far beyond the castle. She would sit on a stone bench at the highest part of the garden and stare at the landscape, her mind in wondering about the people who lay far beyond the boundaries of it. She wondered if the wives truly loved their husbands. If the mothers loved their children. She would envision different stories for these people and would imagine the happiest endings possible for all. Except for her father.

_**For in that brief season, you see everyone for who they are.**_

She had never knew the feeling or desire of vengeance before. She had never felt the need for revenge, so it had been a deeply buried, foreign emotion to her. She didn't understand why she felt such vindictiveness- why she felt detached as she looked at his eyes in her nightmares. She didn't understand how she was able to hurt him without drawing a tear. This terrified her.

She felt the damn tears she always held in fall down her cheeks. She hated crying. She didn't want to feel weak, and crying made her feel exactly that.

Belle felt gentle hands on her shoulders and knew it was Rumplestiltskin. He had tried to give her as much privacy as possible, but hearing her cry made him forget his silent promise. The Dark One turned her around gently and held her against his chest, stroking her hair. Within minutes, her tears stopped and they stood there in the snow- falling wisps of flakes falling on them.

_**In that beautiful but brief season, time stands still- allowing you to hold on to the moment of peace. The moment of ****comfort.**_

The Dark One led her back into the castle as the snow began to fall heavily. Belle leaned her head on his shoulder, inhaling the smoky scent of him- heady, intoxicating. Leaning on his shoulder felt like she was in front of a warm fire. He broke away from her to open the door for her. Belle stood there, frozen in the growing twilight. Rumplestiltskin faced her as silence stretched out between the two.

"Why did you come for me?" she asked, her voice a whisper against the snowflakes.

"I don't know what you mean, dearie," he lied, knowing she found out the truth- that he had come for her. Just not at the right time.

_**That beautiful, brief moment of perfect clarity.**_

"I've been insulted enough, Rumplestiltskin! Please don't act as if you don't know. That night in the forest- why did you come for me?" Belle said, her voice turning gritty with emotion. The Dark One stared at her, not knowing what to say.

"No. I'm asking the wrong question-"

"Belle, it's late. You've been outside in the cold for a while. Come inside and we'll talk," he said, interrupting her. He made his way to her and gently held her hand, only to have it snatched away from him. He looked at Belle with confusion and hurt.

"Why didn't you come for me sooner? Why didn't you even look for me after I left?! Why?" Belle cried at him, hitting his chest with her fists.

"You don't know what it was like, Rumplestiltskin. When my father flogged me he forced me to beg for you to come save me. All those nights- every single night I prayed for death. You don't know what it was like- you don't know what it's like- to love someone with everything you possibly have, only to have them dismiss it like trash!"

Rumplestiltskin was at a loss. He wanted nothing more than to hold her; to explain what had happened. But it doesn't happen that way.

He thought she was dead by her own hand. He believed Regina's lies because he couldn't believe Belle's truth.

**_Then it becomes a question of whether to accept what you see as the truth or deny it as nothing more than a forsaken __dream._**

Belle screamed at him, a torrent of her pain coming to the surface.

"Why didn't you care?" she sobbed, falling into the snow.

The Dark One fell to his knees in front of her- a supplicant in front of the one person who held the most power over him.

"I just wanted to come home."

The words hit him deep inside his heart. He reached out his hand to tilt her face up. The Dark One knew he was the cause for her pain- all of it. He held his own tears, although he could feel the pain in his eyes. He cursed himself for all he had caused, for all the pain and anguish he had caused her. He stared at her, silently begging for her to understand that he was sorry. The words couldn't form and remained buried inside his throat.

_**It becomes a question of whether or not you can accept a beautiful lie or the ugly truth.**_

"I was a coward. Between the two of us...you'll always be the brave one."

Her eyes looked up to his face as she let out a small chuckle.

"I don't think there was courage in anything I did," she said, a rueful smile on her face.

He can't help but to return her smile. Even though hers is tinted with sadness, it's better than seeing the corners of her mouth turned down in an eternal frown.

Night had fallen across the sky as the air grew colder. Rumplestiltskin extended his hand to Belle, a hopeful look in his eyes. He smiled inwardly as she accepted his hand.

* * *

The Dark One sat in front of his fireplace, watching the embers intently. He held his chin in his hand, the other drumming against his boot. His mind would not not let him rest- he kept rehashing the events from earlier...from the time he brought her home.

It killed him to know she had been through so much pain in such a short period of her life. She was a maiden; a princess. Yet she had been treated as if she were tainted and spoiled. Treated like she was a whore. The thoughts enraged him as he stood up, moving to the door. He merely desired to walk around the castle- maybe even make a new potion for Belle's "darling" father.

_"Father," _he spat in disgust. The bastard had no business being one. He was undeserving. Of everything he had.

He moved to open the door and was hocked to see Belle, her hand raised in preparation to knock.

"Oh, I- I'm sorry," she said. The look on her face sent sadness through his veins, polluting his heart. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears.

The Dark One pushed his thoughts of vengeance from his mind as he tenderly brought her into his arms. He felt her take a deep breath as she wrapped her arms around him.

"What's wrong, sweet?" he whispered, gently stroking her hair. He could feel her trembling and wanted to take her fears, take her pain away.

"I couldn't...I couldn't sleep," her voice replied, choke with pain of holding back tears.

Tears had finally found their release as The Dark One stroked her back and hair softly, whispering endearments in her ear.

He broke away from her and led her to the bed. She laid herself down, rolling over to her side to face the fireplace.

Rumplestiltskin climbed in next to her, his hand gently stroking her shoulder. He felt a small victory when she moved closer to him. She rolled over and looked at him, no longer crying. He reached out and cupped her cheek in his hand, his thumb stroking it.

He could see a storm behind her eyes- one of confusion, sadness and...desire? It couldn't be. He felt as if his mind was playing tricks on him, taunting him with what could have been.

"I wish I could kiss you," Belle said, averting her eyes from the Dark One.

"...And why so, dearie?" he asked, resuming in stroking her cheek.

"It made me happy. It made me feel...safe," she replied, shrugging her shoulders.

The fucking curse kept speeding through his head. There was so much he wanted, so much he needed. But he couldn't have the curse, along with his wishes.

"I can't have it both ways," he whispered. The Dark One took a deep breath and let his walls slowly down. Belle turned her face to him, a confused look furrowing her brow.

"What do you mean?"

He took a deep breath as he focused his eyes away from her, staring off into space. He had to disconnect himself from this moment. He would tell her, but he couldn't let his feelings get in the way of the truth. Of the cold, harsh reality that he -was- a monster.

"What would you do, Belle? What would you do if you were faced the choice of choosing one person you love and another?"

"...Your son."

"Imagine. Having all the power in the world. Imagine having that, but being unable to have what you desire most."

Belle remained quiet as Rumplestiltskin rose from the bed. When he walked to the door, she spoke.

"Wait. There's...I don't understand," she said, genuinely confused at his confession. Was he talking of his son? Or of her?

"There's no point in understanding, dearie," he said as he walked back to her, stroking her temple and letting his magic bleed out through him.

"But-" she tried to speak again, only to feel her eyes grow heavy. She sighed softly as she fell into sleep- a peaceful sleep free from nightmares, free from the ghosts of her past that managed to attack her even in her waking moments.

The Dark One gingerly moved his hand from the side of her face, his fingers longingly caressing her. He felt a heavy sinking in her heart when he saw her small smile. Magic had made her smile like that, not him. He had to keep telling himself that.

He left the room silently, wandering the halls of the Dark Castle. His mind weighed heavily with his curse; with his damnation.

Not knowing why, he walked to his lab, seemingly in a haze.

Some curses had ways around them- not breaking them, but manipulating them...

* * *

The snow melted quickly, the sun shone brighter, and warm winds came. Belle's spirits were not lifted with the coming of spring. It held so much pain for her now. She didn't see the beautiful skies. She saw darkened clouds and darkened skies quickly replacing the sun shine and warm winds. Rain fell from the heavens, as if in mourning.

She couldn't seem to get out of the darkness she found herself in. The young heroine, the young, carefree, princess- that young girl was gone. She had died the moment her father had condemned her.

But who had replaced her? Who was the person she saw in the mirror? A woman- broken, destroyed, and unwanted.

She found herself thinking thoughts of vengeance. For the first time in her short life, she could understand- she could understand why the Dark One had taken his revenge on the pirate. She could understand why her Dark One had taken revenge on Milah. It frightened her, but more than anything...it felt as if something clicked in her mind.

"Are you feeling well?" she heard a voice ask. She turned and saw Rumplestiltskin behind her, keeping a comfortable distance.

"Yes. Well...I guess as well as I can be, all things considering," she said, letting out a humorless laugh.

Rumplestiltskin walked to her cautiously. He knew she was still having troubles- and he understood. She had her good days and she had her bad days. But moreso than lately, she had been in her darkest hour.

He couldn't help himself. He could feel her pain as well as see it. He held out his arms for her, not sure of her reaction. Within moments, she was in his arms, holding back tears. She needed comfort right now- more than anything. She needed to know that she wasn't unwanted or unloved. That she wasn't a monster. She buried her head in his chest, hearing his heart beat strongly. See? This wasn't a monster. Though monster he may seem, he was human. The Dark One held her close, stroking her hair and humming a song to her.

A sudden crash of thunder startled Belle, jumping against the Dark One in shock. A sudden downpour of rain covered the lands.

Belle pored away from him slightly, her head turning up to the sky. A small, seemingly out of place smile crossed her lips.

The Dark One was taken aback slightly but the sight. For the first time in months, she was smiling. A true smile- not one to hide pain, not one to put on a mask- but a real smile.

She still held on to him, her face turned upwards. Slowly, he brought his hand to her face and cupped her cheek.

Belle turned her face to him, not losing her smile. He tenderly stroked her cheek, a small, questioning smile crossing his lips. Her eyes closed lightly as she slowly leaned in to him.

Rumplestiltskin wouldn't deny her this- comfort, knowing she was cared for...loved.

He held tight to that bitter ball of anger and rage- towards Regina for her games. Towards the King who had dismissed his brace, king, and caring daughter. To the priests who dressed in white to hide their dark souls. He felt the power from his spell in his veins, protecting his curse. He had several sleepless nights, nights spent of manipulating the magic- the curse he bore. He had finally found one- a tonic to maintain a curse while allowing the user to still experience his heart's desire. But with all magic, it came with a price. The bitter vengeance he held on to would weaken him by sunset.

She gently pressed her lips to his, feeling a deep crackle of power around her. She felt the magic and quickly backed away, cursing herself for being a lovelorn fool, for being so greedy.

Her mouth opened to apologize, but her Dark One silenced her as he kissed her again, his hands on her cheeks.

"Rumplestiltskin- wait," Belle said, breaking the kiss softly. "Your powers..."

"Magic has a way of being manipulated," he said softly, his eyes focused on her lips.

"But at what cost?" she asked sadly, a ghostly smile of pain crossing her face.

"I'll work out the deal later," he said, mirth in his voice. Belle smiled and laughed softly, wrapping her arms around his neck.

A crush of thunder shook the earth as their lips met again.

* * *

He held her to him gently, the outside of the castle melting away to his chambers. A warm fire was burning, casting the room in a warm light.

He tilted her head to the side, his lips tracing the pulse point in her throat- reaffirming to himself she was still here. That she was still alive- not just an illusion. The Dark One threaded his fingers through her hair, drying the strands as he did so. Belle's hands toyed with his collarbone, her nails gently grazing his skin.

"I do think it'd be best to get you out of these very wet clothes," he whispered to her. She laughed softly and nodded her head, placing her trust in the man standing before her- the one who had showed her that she wasn't a shadow anymore. She took a shaky breath as she felt his hands trail down her back, hesitating before he undid the laces to her down. She was through with hesitation and uncertainty. Belle rocked forward into him slightly, surprised at her brazen behavior. As his hands began to undo the laces, she locked her eyes on him, focusing on his small smile. She bit her lip as she felt the warm air of the room hit her back.

Rumplestiltskin was slow in his actions, prolonging the experience. Belle shuddered in nervous anticipation as she felt his hands move to her shoulders, pushing down the top part of the gown. She moaned softly as she felt his hands trace intricate designs down her arms. He smiled against her neck as he felt her shudder.

She was nude in front of him with a few flicks of his wrists. Belle blushed brightly, feeling awkward and slightly ashamed of her body. She wasn't as she once was- with beautiful unmarred skin, bright and rosy. She still felt the scars on her back and arms. Belle couldn't stop those traitorous tears from falling.

Rumplestiltskin wiped the tears from her eyes gently, whispering to her. She was beautiful. She was loved. She was safe. She wasn't broken.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry to leave it at that cliffhanger, loves! Life's been incredibly unstable for me lately- my boyfriend and I broke up and I moved back in with my parents. It's been an incredibly stressful and dark time for me and it's hindered my creative process. But I hope you enjoy this chapter!**


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